


The Black Knight

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, sirius is batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sirius Black becomes the scourge of criminals and Death Eaters, the vigilante known only as The Grim. <cite>("It's The Black Knight, you tossers!")</cite></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Innie for the info about the sweets available on Indian trains. Happy birthday to me! And, I suppose, to Neville and Harry, a couple of weeks early. Originally posted [**here**](http://musesfool.livejournal.com/1258169.html) for wip amnesty. And here we are ten years later...let's just say this is a long awaited gift to myself.

Remus placed the tray on the table with a thump, cutlery and china rattling. Sirius let out a low moan and lifted his head from where it rested against the cool mahogany.

"Breakfast, sir," Remus said crisply, and removed the cover to expose runny eggs and bacon congealing in its own grease.

"Ugh."

"Will that be all, sir?"

Sirius turned his head slowly to look at Remus. "Stop looming, Remus. Sit down."

Remus's jaw tightened, the only sign of anger on his otherwise blank face, but all he said was, "Is that an order, sir?"

"Yes. And dammit, stop calling me sir." Sirius winced, head aching at the sound of his own raised voice. He'd get around to curing his hangover in a moment. Just as soon as the jackhammering behind his left eye stopped.

Remus lowered himself into the chair to Sirius's left, but there was no softening of his posture or expression. Sirius noted through bleary eyes that he'd dressed the part today, right down to the goddamn bowtie and waistcoat. Sirius cradled his head in his hands, rubbing at his left eye, which felt like it was throbbing in counterpoint to the rest of his head.

"How was the Gardners' party?" Remus's voice was neutral but when Sirius looked up, Remus's face was pinched, as if he'd just sucked a lemon.

"Is that what this is about?" Sirius would have laughed if he didn't think the top of his head would blow off. 

With a flick of his wrist, that morning's Daily Prophet unfolded in Remus's hands. He shoved it under Sirius's nose. " _That_ is what _this_ is all about."

"That?" It was a picture of himself, looking drunk and rather the worse for wear, a young woman on either arm, with whom he was trading rather heated kisses.

The headline above it read, Sirius Black Disrupts Engagement Party, Leaves with Bride-to-Be!

"Yes. That."

Sirius took the paper from him and tossed it over his shoulder. "You were the one who said, 'be conspicuous.' I was just following your advice." He was more alert now, gaze trained on Remus's face. 

"Conspicuous. Not scandalous. There's a difference, you know." Remus's nostrils flared and Sirius hoped there was some jealousy mixed in with Remus's anger. "Those poor girls."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Worried for the girls, are you?"

"Constance Gardner left her own engagement party with you!"

"Doesn't quite live up to her name, does she?"

"Sirius!"

"But then, neither do I." He rubbed his forehead again; even the spell to cure his hangover wouldn't make up for his lack of sleep. "Leave it, Remus. I dropped them off at the Ritz. They'd never been to a Muggle hotel before. And I'm sure Hoyle will take her back. It's not like he has any other prospects and he needs the money. Gambling debts, you know?" He snorted. "You'd think a man named Hoyle would be better at cards." He took a sip of water. "Aren't you going to ask me about the rest of the evening?"

"As you failed to wake me when you came in, I presumed you had no wish for me to know."

"So that's what's got your knickers in a twist." Sirius ran a hand through the tangle of his hair, still damp from the quick shower he'd taken upon arriving home in the early hours of the morning. "Merlin, Remus. I stumbled into bed at four. For some reason known only to yourself, you get up at six. It seemed a kindness to let you sleep." He waved a hand dismissively. "The important thing is, I found the papers. Your source was right--he kept them in his bedroom. The wardrobe has a false bottom."

Remus smiled a tight, predatory smile, which reminded Sirius that Remus was dangerous in his own way. 

It had been the death of Mary Jane Malarkey, a friend of Remus's from school who'd been tops in their year in Herbology, that had brought this case to their attention. Two previous recent deaths among customers at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary had been written off as coincidental, Muggle-borns who didn't know their poisonous plants as well as they should have, but Mary Jane could tell impatiens from vincas at forty paces; Remus had insisted there was no way she'd have knowingly used something deadly in a simple cough potion and then taken it herself. The ingredients she--and, it turned out, the two other victims--had purchased, however, had come to Mr. Mulpepper's via Gardner Imports, along with a number of highly illegal, and terribly poisonous, items in the shop's inventory that no one could find paperwork for, or, in some cases, would even admit to ordering in the first place.

"How _do_ you learn these things, Mr. Moony? Buggering the Gardner gardener, perhaps?" He watched Remus's face from beneath lowered lashes, noting the slight flare of his nostrils, the momentary clench of his jaw--all the little signs of Remus's anger that no one else would probably ever notice, but which Sirius found familiar and comforting. The fact that he could still get under Remus's skin so easily gave him hope; anyone else would have given up on him long ago.

"Yes, exactly," Remus answered, so dry that Sirius had to laugh through his brief pang of jealousy. 

He knew Remus didn't have much time for a personal life these days. He supposed he should feel bad about that, but he didn't. He didn't exactly have one either, thanks to Peter's treachery. It was fine, though. It left him scads of time to dedicate to being a crime-fighting vigilante. 

Remus busied himself with the coffeepot for a moment, pouring out a cup for Sirius before settling back down, looser now, less the proper butler and more the partner in crime, or crime-fighting, as it were. "What did you learn?"

Sirius took a sip of coffee, the dark, bitter taste of it revitalizing him, especially after his rough night. "As of right now, not much." A wave of his wand brought a tiny camera flying into the dining room; he caught it easily and grinned at Remus, who snorted at this display of laziness (though Sirius preferred to think of it as panache). "The papers were all encrypted." He held up the camera. "I'll develop the film--see if I can't do it both the Muggle and magical way, just in case--and then put your Ancient Runes expertise to the test."

"And you said my N.E.W.T. in Ancient Runes would never come in handy."

"Well, I dropped Divs after third year, didn't I?" And hadn't taken it seriously even when James had told him about the prophecy, when it would have mattered. 

"True," Remus answered briskly, rising. "To work, then. Harry will be here by three--"

"Merlin! I meant to--"

"Have the broom delivered?" Remus asked, and with a snap of his fingers, a large, flat package the size of a child's broom flew into his hand. It was his turn to smirk, and all Sirius could do not to laugh at the smug smile on his face.

Sirius tossed back the rest of his coffee in one big gulp and then jumped up, taking the brightly wrapped package from Remus's hands. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he said, squeezing Remus's shoulder. He wondered what Remus would do if he leaned in and kissed him, but decided not to take the chance. Things were going pretty well, and he didn't want to screw them up again.

He slipped away before Remus could answer.

***

Beneath the wine cellar of number twelve, Grimmauld Place (well-stocked, and the one part of his family legacy Sirius actually appreciated) were dungeons. They weren't on any surveyors' plans--they'd been blasted out of the earth with magic sometime in the fourteenth century and had been used for nearly six hundred years to imprison and torture enemies of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Sirius remembered the pride in his mother's voice when she'd taken him down there the first time, cold blue light from her wand casting monstrous shadows along dank, moldy walls set with rusted chains and manacles. It was like something out of a Muggle novel, and Sirius had repressed a shudder of horror even as the bloodthirsty child in him wanted to hear her cruel tales of torture and death.

When he'd inherited the house after his mum died, he and Remus had spent months cleaning the place out, making it fit for human habitation again. He'd started in on the dungeons himself, plans still secret at that point, unsure of how Remus would respond. Remus had dubbed it the Kennel back in those days, and the name had stuck.

Now, the cavernous underground rooms were clean and dry and home to all his stuff. And he did have a lot of stuff, most of which was used in his dedicated quest to find Peter Pettigrew and bring Death Eaters to justice, though some of it was just because he liked things that were shiny and went fast. 

The darkroom was comfortable, snug even, red light warm and familiar as he developed the photographs, eyes skating over random runes. He did it twice--once the Muggle way and once the magical. This way they'd have a record if anything changed. Never could be too certain with runes.

The work was soothing, and he let his mind drift even as he scanned the pictures; not only was the information contained on the documents he'd photographed written in runes, it was encoded beyond that, but he'd found that sometimes, if he let his focus drift, he could make connections unconsciously. He sighed, clipping the last batch up to the line to dry just as the proximity charms on the back door chimed.

He Apparated upstairs so he could be there when Remus opened the door. Arabella Figg, dressed in clothes that couldn't have been fashionable even when they were new and which were now about twenty years out of date, was on the doorstep, Harry's rucksack in one hand, Harry's hand in the other.

"Please come in," Remus was saying. "I've made some lovely shortbread, and we can't eat it all by ourselves."

"I really shouldn't," she said.

"Of course you should," Sirius said, striding forward to take Harry's bag from her. Harry smiled up at him, and he ruffled the kid's hair. "You know he only makes it for you, Arabella. Harry and I much prefer chocolate chip cookies. Right, Harry?"

Harry nodded. He was a quiet little thing, which was probably the result of living with those awful Muggles--and for once, Sirius could understand why people disliked them, because Lily's sister and brother-in-law were the worst Muggles he'd ever met.

Sirius hated that they had to conspire to sneak Harry out of the Dursleys' house to see him, that Arabella Figg was the only one willing to help, and that she couldn't protect herself, let alone Harry, if something happened.

They'd put contingency plans in place, Merlin knew, portkeys and signals, and a bloody Muggle telephone because Remus said the two-way mirrors were too easily traced back to Sirius, and Peter knew how to use them. But still, Sirius worried. 

Sirius nodded at Arabella as Remus shuffled her into a seat at the kitchen table for a good gossip, while he led Harry into the living room. "How are you, Harry?"

Harry gave him a tentative smile, and Sirius promised himself yet again that he'd find a way to get Harry out of that terrible house for good, but for this afternoon, he worked on making the kid laugh out loud without looking like he was going to be punished for it.

***

Sirius was always terrified he'd do something to make Harry not want to come back--it was one reason he bought Harry so many gifts, despite Remus's assertions that the kid's affections couldn't, and more importantly, _didn't need to be_ , bought. And it seemed to be true. Harry'd been reticent at first, cautious and tentative, as if expecting the same sort of treatment he received at the Dursleys', but he'd slowly unbent enough to shriek with laughter when Sirius turned into Padfoot and romped through the house with him. Sirius tried never to show his anger at how poorly Lily's family treated him, and Remus often reminded him (possibly he was reminding himself, as well) that once they'd found Peter and confirmed that Voldemort was dead, it would be safe for Harry to come and live with them.

Sirius had never been patient, but for Harry (for Remus), he had learned to be. It was just one of the many skills he's cultivated when he was gone.

He and Remus had never really discussed his five-year disappearance. Remus jokingly referred to it as his time at finishing school, when he mentioned it at all, but Sirius thought there was some truth in calling it that. He'd gone with Hagrid to see Dumbledore on that fateful night when James and Lily died, unwilling to let baby Harry out of his sight, not even for the chance at revenge on Peter. Dumbledore had believed him--had had to believe him, once his memories were gathered and shared in the Pensieve--but refused to allow Sirius to take Harry, and Sirius...Sirius had not handled it well.

He'd bolted out of Dumbledore's office, reclaimed his motorbike from Hagrid, and taken off in search of Peter. But it was impossible to find one rat in a sea of rats in London, and he'd ended up flying farther and farther afield, driven by rage and grief. He'd torn through Eastern Europe and the magical bits of the Soviet Union, fighting former Death Eaters and anyone else who got in his way, before he washed up on the doorstep of Nanda Parbat, somewhere in the Himalaya. No one was exactly sure where it was, since it was Unplottable (it was said to have been the original Unplottable, but Sirius had never found proof that that was so), but generally, only lost souls found it, and Sirius had been pretty lost by that point.

The monks who lived there were used to taking people in, and Sirius had needed something to pull him out of the reckless, angry state he'd been in since even before James and Lily were killed. The monks had taught him to fight the Muggle way, though there were as many wizards as Muggles living there. Sirius wondered if they might be a model for the world, but his sword-fighting master ("Dick Dragon, eh?" Sirius had said the first time they were introduced. "You don't look like a Chinese Fireball." And then the man had transformed into a Hungarian Horntail and Sirius didn't mock him again) told him it was only permitted because Nanda Parbat was hidden, and time passed differently there. 

They also reminded him that his gifts, as they called both his magical abilities and his newfound fighting prowess, were meant to help people, and that as repayment for his time with them, they expected him to go out into the world and do good.

It took him a while to figure out how.

The idea came, oddly enough, from a Muggle comic book that belonged to Lily. An American cousin had sent a handful of them to her at the beginning of their sixth year, and James had borrowed one without permission.

"That's stealing, that is," Remus said.

"Not if I give it back before she notices it's gone."

"What are the odds of that happening?"

"Oh, ye of little faith," James answered, too busy crowing about putting one over on the object of his affections to notice that Sirius had plucked the comic from his hand and was reading it, brow furrowed in concentration.

"With great power there must also come great responsibility," he quoted. "It's like Martin Miggs except this bloke's got spider powers." Sirius read the other stories about Spider-Man with an interested but skeptical eye. "I don't think Muggle science works like that," he'd muttered, and the others had laughed.

And it was true, he couldn't get spider powers from a radioactive spider, though Sirius had spent a week or two trying to concoct a potion that would do it (mostly he'd just made himself sick), but he _could_ turn into a dog. Over the years, he'd learned a lot of things that could help people, and he could do that--he could still help _Harry_ , even if he hadn't saved Lily and James.

He caught his first purse-snatcher in Shanghai, and stopped his first mugging in Bangkok. It was easier than he thought it'd be; the same instincts that had made him excellent at pulling pranks and brazening out the consequences allowed him to jump into action when other people might have frozen in indecision. In those days, he relied on his fists and his feet, using his wand only to obliviate memories of his face as necessary.

It was only after he ran into Remus on a train in Jaipur--and Sirius hadn't recognized him at first, had only seen a bundle of ragged brown clothing in the seat next to his that turned out to contain a person with the bright eyes and thin face of his beloved Moony--that he realized he'd been gone for five years.

"I swear I didn't think it was more than two," he said as they slumped next to each other on the local train to Delhi.

Remus hummed in disapproval, his lips pinched tight, but he didn't move away. He looked shabbier than he had even during the war, his funds and energy depleted by chasing yet another lead on a cure for his lycanthropy, which turned out to be false, as had all the other leads before or since, though Sirius thought it might be worth spending the Black family fortune to find one that would pan out. Sirius had vowed to make sure he was taken care of from then on, regardless of what happened next. He fed Remus sweets from the vendors who appeared at their window every time the train stopped. The rock candy was as good as anything they'd ever got at Honeyduke's, and Remus's demeanor softened more with every laddu Sirius pressed into his hand. He'd always had an insatiable sweet tooth.

Back in London, Sirius allowed himself to be hugged tightly by Andromeda when he showed up at her door, and then made her accompany him while he sat through a long scolding from his mother's lawyers before they gave him the keys to the house at number twelve Grimmauld Place.

Afterwards, he stood a round at the Leaky, where he found Remus trying to scrounge up enough money to let a room for the night.

"C'mon, Moony," he said, slinging an arm across Remus's shoulders. "You can stay with me, as long as you don't mind the house elves' heads on the wall."

Remus looked at him skeptically right up until they were through the front door, and then he said, "Good lord, Sirius, it's ghastly." His mouth curved in a sly smile. "This explains _so much_ about you."

"Shut up." Sirius bumped his shoulder into Remus's and Remus bumped back companionably. 

Of course, that peace was broken almost immediately when Kreacher appeared, muttering imprecations and slurs in his creaky voice.

"There'll be none of that," Sirius said, cutting off Kreacher's insult about werewolves before he could finish. "Go to Narcissa. I don't want to see you back here."

"Mistress would never--"

"I've got clothes with your name on 'em if you don't shut up and go," Sirius snarled. 

Kreacher took himself off, and the house felt a little less foreboding for it. 

"Sorry about that," he said, turning to Remus with a tentative smile. "He went a bit mad when Regulus died, and I reckon being locked up in here alone with my mother finished the job."

They spent several weeks clearing the place out--the work was tedious even with Remus's expertise at banishing doxies and casting cleaning spells--but they fell into an old familiar rhythm that gave Sirius hope that maybe their friendship wasn't the only thing they could recover.

There was a bit of a hiccup in the cleaning process when Sirius's mother's portrait proved difficult to remove, but after many hours in the library, Remus found an antidote to the permanent sticking charm it had been hung with. Trust the Black family to have both the spell and counterspell on hand for any occasion.

The weather was turning cold and crisp, the kind of weather that always made Sirius yearn for the Hogwarts Express and the comfort of the Gryffindor dorm, when they finally made it down into the dungeons.

Sirius had plans for these rooms--a garage, a gym, a place to store any artifacts that were too dangerous to keep upstairs--but the musty, dank atmosphere needed to be cleared first. 

He'd been afraid Remus would laugh--or worse--when he told him his plans, but he'd also decided not to keep secrets anymore, not if he could help it, not after what had happened to James and Lily when he'd trusted the wrong friend and not the man who'd shared his life. 

"I have an idea," he said, after murmuring the spell that lit the sconces (not actual torches anymore, not after he and Regulus had almost burned the house down the summer he was ten).

Remus's mouth twitched and one eyebrow rose. It was such a _dear_ expression, so familiar after all the pranks they'd pulled at school, that Sirius has to take an extra breath through his suddenly tight throat. 

"Let's hear it then," Remus said when Sirius let the silence stretch dramatically.

"The Black Knight!" Sirius made a ta-da gesture with his hands.

"The what now?"

"Do you remember Lily's Muggle comic books?"

"The ones you stole?"

"I believe the correct term is borrowed," Sirius said haughtily, "but I'm referring to their content, not my means of acquiring them." He sniffed and then wished he hadn't when dust made him sneeze.

Remus's mouth curved in amusement and then his forehead furrowed thoughtfully. "The ones where everyone wore pajamas to fight crime?"

Sirius tapped his still-runny nose. "Yeah." He waved his wand at the thick layer of dust covering the floor and the cobwebs draped over the walls. "I learned a lot while I was in Nanda Parbat, and in return for that knowledge, I promised to pay it forward by helping other people."

Remus, while never as obviously brilliant as Sirius or James, was still one of the sharpest wizards Sirius knew. "You want to fight crime in your pajamas?"

"Got it in one, Mr. Moony!" Sirius grinned. "Though I was thinking more leather and less flannel."

"Of course you were," Remus murmured indulgently. "Muggers and motorbike thieves beware."

"I was thinking more about Death Eaters," Sirius said, levity gone from his tone. "And one traitorous, rat-faced Death Eater in particular."

"Wormtail," Remus said, and his voice was as chilly as the dungeon in which they stood.

"Wormtail," Sirius confirmed with a vicious growl.

It had grown from there, of course, since Pettigrew had gone to ground like the wily little rat he was, but there were always wizards trying to get away with something, and the Aurors were understaffed and desultory in their work now that the war was over, especially if a suspect belonged to one of the old pureblood families. Everybody wanted to pretend those same families hadn't made up the majority of Voldemort's followers, and go back to acting like the war had never happened.

Sirius had lost too much to let that stand.

***

The evening after his scandalous visit to Constance Gardner's engagement party, Sirius had no social engagements; he rarely did these days, unless he was using carousing as a cover for investigation. Their old circle of friends had been wary on his return--after all, James and Lily were still dead, and since Peter had never been found, it was all too easy to believe that Sirius had betrayed them and then been let off the hook. One couldn't lock up the head of the Noble and Ancient House of Black in Azkaban, even if the whole family were suspected Death Eaters. Still, the very cloud that hung over him allowed him entrée into the upper echelons of wizarding society, which was where the worst criminals were to be found. One only had to look at dear cousin Bellatrix, who had finally done something so far beyond the pale by torturing the Longbottoms that she'd finally been locked up, and not even the Black family name could have saved her from that, even if Sirius had been inclined to offer his help, which of course, he wasn't.

So instead of an evening down the pub with friends, he and Remus spent the night attempting to decrypt the runes in the photos he'd taken of the documents in Fortitude Gardner's wardrobe.

It was slow work and it required concentration, but he and Remus were good at that. It was how he and James and Peter had become Animagi, in the first place, and how they'd written the map, and pulled off two dozen other ingenious things before they'd even left Hogwarts. And Sirius had only got better at it in his time away; the meditation he'd scoffed at early on had taught him how to focus, and how to settle, to let his mind be quiet and open to the universe.

It allowed him to see the pattern in the runes, even as they shifted and changed across the wizarding photographs he'd taken.

Remus sat across from him, hunched over the still photographs, pencil caught between his teeth, the warm yellow light from the chandelier gilding his brown hair and making the strands of grey in it gleam. Sirius refused to let himself be distracted, though. He knew they were onto something here, even if it wasn't Pettigrew's trail.

Unlike many of the old pureblood families, the Gardners maintained ties to the Muggle business community, and much of their fortune came from the import-export business Fortitude's father Perseverance had expanded during the war with Grindelwald. Magic had made smuggling rationed goods easy, and the Gardner family vault at Gringotts had filled rapidly. 

So, really, it shouldn't have been a surprise that the decrypted runes were shipping manifests and timetables.

"He's sneaking banned potions paraphernalia into the country," Remus said, ticking off the names of poisonous plants on the list. "Snakeroot, datura, jequirity, deadly webcaps--"

"What? A garden full of wolfsbane and foxglove isn't good enough for them now?" Sirius asked. "Is it not fashionable to use homegrown poisons anymore?"

Remus let out a snort of laughter, and then looked so surprised that Sirius had to laugh, too, even though none of it was very funny.

"The next shipment arrives on Wednesday." Sirius frowned as he calculated in his head. "I guess smugglers don't need to rely on the dark of the moon anymore, huh."

"No," Remus said. "But you shouldn't let that stop you."

"Remus--"

"I'm perfectly capable of dealing with the full moon on my own, Sirius." Remus's mouth tightened, his lips pressed thin and bloodless for all the lightness in his tone. "After all, I did it for the five years you were gone."

"But you shouldn't have to," Sirius insisted. As much as he felt guilty about abandoning Remus during those years, he felt even worse about the year before that, when he'd still been in England, when they'd still supposedly been together, and he'd stopped joining Remus on full moon nights and used his work for the Order as an excuse. Looking back, Sirius saw how easily Peter had turned them against each other, how quickly he'd been ready to believe the worst of Remus, simply because he was a werewolf through no fault of his own. It had been that disgust with himself, as much as the guilt of choosing to trust Peter instead of Remus, that had driven him so far away from home for so long. It was that which still kept him from trying for more than the friendly partnership he and Remus now shared, despite having lived together for the entire two years since he'd come back. "I promised--"

"Yes, well," Remus said, cutting him off, "we both know that promises aren't always kept. And it's not anyone's fault, so don't go beating yourself up about it." His tone was astringent but there was a kindness in his gaze that kept Sirius from arguing. 

"You know I never feel guilty about anything," Sirius lied blithely. "They bred guilt out of the Black family back in the 1600s."

Remus hummed and raised an incredulous eyebrow. Then, just to drive home his point, he took a sip of the tea sitting at his elbow, which had to be cold by now.

"And _anyway_ ," Sirius continued, "this is more suited to Mad-Eye's special team of Aurors than it is to The Black Knight." Sirius still pronounced it with a flourish, forever tickled at his own invention. Remus gave him a genuine smile, so Sirius didn't think he really minded much.

Sirius made copies of all their work and bundled it up along with a note signed with a sketch of a black dog, and addressed the whole thing to Alastor Moody at the Ministry. Talon, his mangy old owl, didn't even nip him when he took the package.

***

Sirius woke slowly; his body felt heavy and warm and he didn't want to move, especially when he realized there was another body-- _Remus's_ body--curled up next to him on the bed. Remus's hair, which smelled like wet dog and grass, was tickling his nose and one of Remus's bony knees was pressed uncomfortably against Sirius's kidney, so he shifted just enough to relieve both issues without waking Remus at all. He always slept like the dead after the full moon. At least this time, he didn't have any knew wounds to heal. Sirius hated every silvery scar on Remus's pale skin, but he hated the ones that had happened during his absence the most.

He buried his nose in the sweaty nape of Remus's neck and drifted back to sleep.

The second time he woke, it was to the insistent fullness of his bladder, which refused to be ignored. He slipped quietly out of bed and after he'd taken care of that pressing problem, he headed downstairs to the kitchen. It was mostly Remus's domain now--he took the butlering thing a little too seriously for Sirius's taste--but on mornings after the full moon, Sirius took over. He put the kettle on for tea and began frying bacon, knowing it would get Remus up and moving more quickly than anything else.

He'd moved onto the eggs by the time Remus stumbled into the kitchen. Sirius felt exhausted just looking at him, but he hid it as well as he could. He'd been up all night as well, but at least his change was painless and quick.

"Thanks," Remus said, his voice a harsh rasp after a night spent howling at the moon. He hunched over his cup of hot tea like it held the secrets to the universe. 

"Of course, Mr. Moony. There's bacon, as well." A flick of his wand uncovered the tray that held the bacon, and another flick set a plate of scrambled eggs beside Remus's elbow, where he was less likely to collapse into it face-first. Sirius gathered the toast--already buttering itself neatly--and the plate of eggs he'd made for himself and sat down next to Remus.

"Thanks," Remus said again, this time around a mouthful of bacon.

Sirius waved the thanks away, his own mouth full of eggs and toast. "I've been thinking," he said after he'd swallowed.

"Oh dear." Remus's voice was still rough but his tone was amused. "I hope you haven't hurt yourself."

Sirius flipped him off but otherwise ignored that bit of calumny. "Harry's birthday is in a month. Maybe we could have a small party? Invite some other kids? They'll be in his year at Hogwarts. Maybe he should get to know them a little first."

Remus looked skeptical. "Who do we know who'd let their kids come here?"

"Molly Weasley's got a couple in his age range, I think," Sirius answered. "And I know you find her terrifying, but Frank Longbottom's mum would probably let Neville come, just so he could have some exposure to wizards who aren't trying to throw him out a window."

"That woman is a menace," Remus said, "but Neville seems like a sweet kid and his birthday is the day before Harry's, so I'm sure he'd appreciate a party where people weren't poking at him to see if he's a squib. And Harry could use some friends." 

Sirius nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking."

"Maybe you should invite Andromeda and Ted," Remus continued. "They can bring Nymphadora and she can entertain them. She likes kids, doesn't she?"

"Dunno. Couldn't hurt to ask, though." Sirius took a sip of tea. "You're a genius, Moony."

"Good of you to finally admit it."

"I never denied it." Sirius nudged Remus's foot under the table. "I always knew you were hiding a diabolical mind beneath that mild-mannered façade." And maybe that was too close to what he had believed during the war, but Remus seemed inclined to let it slide, whether because he'd actually forgiven Sirius or because he was too tired to argue, Sirius didn't know.

All Remus said was, "Hmm, yes," before he snapped open The Daily Prophet. Sirius applied himself assiduously to his breakfast, and for a little while, the silence was punctuated by the ruffling of the newspaper and the sounds of Sirius chewing. That was broken when Remus said, "Moody's lot caught some wizards smuggling poisonous plants into the country last night via Gardner Imports. Looks like Gardner's going to slither out of any charges, but having his name in the paper so close to criminal activity might give the family a black eye for a bit." He lowered the corner of the paper so he could look at Sirius. "No mention of where the tip came from, though, or acknowledgement that they're tied to Mary Jane's or the other deaths."

"Bastards." Sirius wiped the residue of bacon grease off his fingers and picked up The Quibbler. That headline was much more satisfying. 

"Smugglers snaffled in shipyard standoff!" he read aloud. "Our intrepid reporter has learned that last night, working off a tip from the mysterious crime-fighting vigilante known only as The Grim--" Sirius interrupted himself with a low, distressed noise--"It's the Black Knight, you tossers!" 

"You should write a sternly worded letter to the editor," Remus said.

"You're right, Moony. I _should_ write a letter." 

Remus snickered. "Accio quill and parchment." 

The quill and parchment landed with an unfortunately moist sound in the greasy remains of Sirius's eggs. Sirius gave Remus a disdainful look and turned back to his newspaper. "Now where was I? Oh yes, a tip from the mysterious crime-fighting vigilante known only as The Grim--" He intoned the name his most put-upon voice and rolled his eyes, earning another snicker from Remus. "A squad of Aurors led by Mad-Eye Moody arrested a band of smugglers importing poisonous potions paraphernalia at the Gardner Imports warehouse. Fortitude Gardner was not available for comment, but our intrepid reporter respectfully suggests that this was an effort on the part of the shipping magnate to take over London's thriving black market for illegal plants.

"We at The Quibbler thank The Grim for his vigilance and bravery, and commend the Aurors on removing this venomous menace from our streets and cauldrons." 

"Such bravery," Remus murmured, pressing one hand to his chest over his heart.

"All I did was write the note. And break into Gardner's wardrobe. And spirit his daughter away for a night of Muggle debauchery. _You_ figured out what they were doing," Sirius said generously. 

Remus made a dismissive noise and frowned. "I thought plants were poisonous, not venomous."

"Poetic license?" Sirius suggested, then shook his head. "I'm not letting you distract me. You deserve at least as much credit as I do for figuring this out."

Remus's expression and tone softened. "Thank you, Sirius. I appreciate that. Though I do think you'd allow a man to swoon over your bravery if he wants to."

"I'm not sure much bravery was required since, as I always say, criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot."

" _Do_ you always say that?" There was a glint in Remus's eye that Sirius hadn't seen in a long time.

Sirius replayed the last few moments of the conversation, realizing he'd missed something very important. "Wait, wait," he said, turning in his chair so he could get closer to Remus. " _Are_ you swoony, Mr. Moony?"

"Only over you, Mr. Padfoot. Only ever over you." Remus smiled brightly. "And maybe those laddus from the train in Jaipur."

"I should have known plying you with sweets would work," Sirius said before he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Remus's.

It was awkward and slightly off-center, but familiar, as tender and perfect as Sirius remembered--better even, for being real and now, even if Remus did taste of eggs and bacon.

He curled his fingers in the soft cotton of Remus's shirt and said, "Come upstairs, Remus. It's the morning after the full moon. You shouldn't be out of bed yet."

"The dishes--"

"Will keep." Sirius gestured dismissively with his wand and the plates and cups clattered into the sink; another nonchalant gesture and the spills wiped themselves away.

"Don't you have work to do?" Remus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Taking care of you," Sirius replied with aplomb. "That's the most important work I'll ever do."

Remus kissed him fervently. "Definitely swoony," he murmured against Sirius's mouth, and Sirius took the opportunity to Apparate them both back upstairs into bed.

***

Sirius approached Andromeda about the party first; she was still in the good graces of many of their old friends, and especially with Molly Weasley, whose brood would be a party unto themselves even if no one else they invited chose to attend. But she and Remus both insisted that even Sirius's notoriety wouldn't keep people away if they thought they'd get a glimpse at the famous Harry Potter for the first time since he'd defeated Voldemort.

And they weren't wrong. The small yard at number twelve Grimmauld Place was filled to the brim with shrieking children.

"Seven kids," Sirius whispered in Remus's ear when the Weasleys arrived like a plague of locusts, loud and hungry. "Arthur and Molly bred their own quidditch team." Remus nudged him in the ribs with a bony elbow, but his mouth curved in a mischievous grin, too. 

Harry was hesitant at first--Sirius suspected he was usually the victim of this kind of boisterous crowd, not a fellow traveler--but once the Weasleys proved they were there to play with instead of bully him, he warmed up quickly, and joined in their loud and inexplicable games.

In addition to the Weasleys, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood and their families were there. Sirius hadn't planned to invite the Lovegoods, but then he discovered that Xenophilius was the Black Knight's biggest fan, even if he still called him by the wrong name in The Quibbler, and they'd expanded the guest list to include him, his wife, and his daughter, who'd rushed into the yard and started rustling in the hedges for fairies. Sirius shook Xenophilius's hand and commended him on printing the news the Prophet was to afraid to publish.

"You can't give away your secret identity," Remus reminded him, his gaze sparking with mirth. "Moody'll clap you in chains for sure if you do it before we've caught Peter. And anyway, Lovegood is married and you're spoken for. Alas, a brief flirtation is all it can ever be."

"Shut up, Moony." But Sirius couldn't help the sappy smile taking over his face.

"Mu-um," one of the innumerable Weasleys yelled, "Sirius said 'shut up!'"

"Tattletale," Sirius muttered. 

The Weasley did not look impressed or intimidated.

"Sirius is a grown-up and may do as he pleases," Molly told the kid. "You, on the other hand, Ron, have to listen to your mother."

"Percy didn't listen," Ron said, pointing at another one of the Weasley kids. "He brought Scabbers even though you said he couldn't."

"Percy Weasley, I thought I told you to leave that rat at home." Molly's voice was as piercing as a peacock on the pull as she marched across the grass towards Percy.

Sirius winced and then her words penetrated. "Remus?" Remus nodded, on the same wavelength as usual. "Let's take a closer look." They followed Molly, who was scolding young Percy at a slightly lower volume now. In his no-doubt sticky fingers, Percy clutched a squirming rat that looked like it would rather be anywhere but where it was.

"May I?" Remus asked politely, though there was no doubt from his tone that it was not a request. He held out his hands, but the rat leapt as soon as Percy released it, and went scrambling through the grass. Sirius transformed immediately; it revealed his _other_ secret identity, but also gave him a much better chance at catching Wormtail, or whatever he was calling himself these days. Sirius knew it was him; his scent was strong and familiar, even after so many years.

The children screamed with laughter, as if it were a game, and tried to catch Wormtail too, or grab Padfoot's tail as he raced past. 

Wormtail finally fetched up at Harry's ankles, allowing Padfoot to trap him with on large paw on his long tail and his teeth on the scruff of his tiny, ratty neck.

"What in blazes is going on?" Andromeda demanded. "Since when are you an animagus, Sirius? And why are you attacking the Weasleys' rat?"

Sirius dropped Wormtail into Remus's waiting hands and turned back into a man. "Since fifth year, and the Weasleys' rat is Peter Pettigrew. Also an animagus, and the one responsible for ratting out James and Lily's hiding place to Voldemort." He couldn't keep the hurt and anger out of his voice.

Molly looked at him as if he'd gone mad, and Andromeda and the Lovegoods didn't look like they thought he was particularly sane either, but he glanced at Remus, who nodded again and offered Wormtail up to Sirius's wand. 

He was so enraged that he couldn't even manage to get the words out, but it didn't matter. He cast the spell with a sharp stroke of his wand and Wormtail slowly transformed back into a human being, albeit one with a distinctly rat-like appearance.

"Sirius, Remus, my old friends," Pettigrew wittered at them in a voice creaky from disuse. "And is this young Harry? He looks so like James."

Harry shrunk back from him, confused, and the Weasley kids surrounded him protectively.

"How _dare_ you speak to him?" Sirius roared. "You murdered James and Lily. You have no right to say their names."

"I did what I had to do to survive," Pettigrew said. "And so did you."

"I would have _died_ for them," said Sirius.

"But you didn't," Pettigrew replied in that reasonable way he had that just made Sirius angrier. "You handed off the responsibility to me."

Sirius raised his wand. He'd never cast an Unforgivable, though he'd come close once or twice during the war, but if anyone deserved it--

"Sirius!" Remus's voice was sharp and his hand was clamped tightly on Sirius's elbow. 

The air suddenly filled with the rapid pops of Apparition as Dumbledore, Moody, and several Aurors appeared in the yard.

"Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, I see you have been having quite a party," Dumbledore said. 

"The social event of the season," Remus answered tightly. 

Dumbledore inclined his head. "My invitation must have gotten lost. But I see Harry's made it." 

Harry, who'd been peeking around one of the larger Weasleys to see what was happening, shrunk back into the mass of redheads that was guarding him. Sirius leaned over and tried to catch his gaze; when Harry looked at him, eyes wide behind his glasses, Sirius tipped him a wink and won a smile in return. 

For Harry's sake, he'd try to rein in his temper. "It's Harry's birthday," he said, turning back to Dumbledore. "We thought we'd give him a one-of-a-kind present."

"Then I'd say you've been quite successful," Dumbledore replied. "Alastor, please escort Mr. Pettigrew to the Ministry for processing."

"He belongs in Azkaban." But they disappeared before Sirius had a chance to get the words out.

"And to Azkaban he shall go," Dumbledore said. "But there are still many questions to be asked and answered before that happens." He reached into his pocket and brought out a small tin, then made a show of scanning the yard. "Now, Harry Potter, where are you?"

Harry stepped out from behind the wall of Weasleys surrounding him. "Here, sir."

Dumbledore held out the tin. "Sherbet lemon?"

"Thank you, sir." Harry popped the sweet into his mouth and his lips puckered.

"Nice manners. You've grown quite a bit since last we met."

"We've met, sir?"

"Oh yes, many times, though not since you went to live with your aunt and uncle. I'm the one who brought you there."

"Oh." Harry looked thoughtful. "Thank you. I guess."

Sirius wanted to shout that he shouldn't have to be thankful for living with Lily's awful sister, but Remus's hand on his arm kept him quiet.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful as well. "At the time, it seemed like the safest place for you, but times change." He glanced around the yard, as always aware of his audience and how best to play to it. He was a manipulative old bastard, Sirius thought, but he knew how to work a crowd. "Should you like to come and live with Sirius and Remus, Harry?"

Harry looked as stunned as Sirius felt. Did Dumbledore mean it?

"Do you mean it?" Harry asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

"I think it can be arranged. After all, you'd be under the protection of the bravest vigilante in London." He tapped the side of his nose. "Safe as houses, Harry. Safe as houses."

That was too much for Xenophilius Lovegood, who burst into the conversation with, "You know The Grim, Professor?"

"I daresay I do, and I'm very proud of him. Now, this is a birthday party, is it not?" Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Where is the cake?"

The children started chanting, "Cake, cake, cake, cake," and Sirius appreciated a bit of anarchy, so they ate the cake first, and had dinner after.

***

Most of the children had no idea what they'd seen, or were clever enough to play dumb in front of the adults, anyway. Or perhaps they knew no one else would believe them if they tried to tell anyone else what had really happened at Harry Potter's birthday party.

But the Monday morning papers were full of the story of Peter Pettigrew's capture, and The Quibbler cited an anonymous source that was obviously Dumbledore as saying that the Grim had been instrumental in the arrest. (The Prophet was not quite as effusive in its tone.)

More importantly, though, Monday morning brought with it Harry and all his meager belongings to number twelve Grimmauld Place, where he would live happily with his godfather, and his godfather's butler slash boyfriend.

"And maybe one day, when he's old enough, he can be the Squire to my Knight," Sirius said after Harry had gone to bed. 

Remus gave him an indulgent look and set the tea tray down so they could begin another night's work as London's premier (only) magical vigilante, and his trusty crime-fighting butler slash partner.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> There are a number of actual Batman/DCU references here: Nanda Parbat, Richard Dragon (I would not be at all surprised if that guy really were a dragon animagus), and of course, "criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot" is a direct quote from "Batman Beyond."


End file.
